


Literacy

by happyeverafter72



Category: Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:27:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25571311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/happyeverafter72/pseuds/happyeverafter72
Summary: Holmes has a secret that he has worked hard to conceal all his adult life. Watson helps him to overcome his difficulties.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 10
Kudos: 86





	1. Chapter 1

As on many other mornings, Holmes and Watson were at breakfast when Mrs Hudson came in with a telegram.

“Thank you, Mrs Hudson,” Holmes said, dismissing her. He glanced over the telegram briefly, before handing it to his companion. “Watson, would you be so good as to read this aloud?”

Watson took it and began to read. “Mr Holmes, I request your assistance with an occurrence which has troubled me greatly. I shall come by your lodgings at 10 o’clock. Sincerely, Oliver Stein.”

Holmes looked thoughtful. “Hm. It doesn’t give us much to go on.”

“I’m sure I recognise the name, Holmes,” Watson said. But, cudgel his brains though he might, he could not recall where from.

10 o’ clock rolled around  quickly, and their client arrived. Stein was a well-groomed man of 40, rather portly and with grey hairs coming through.

“Mr Stein, this is my friend and colleague, Dr Watson,” Holmes said by way of introduction. “Please lay before us the facts of the occurrence that has troubled you so greatly.”

Stein settled himself on the settee and began his account. “Well, Mr Holmes, I am a breeder of King Charles Spaniels. I have had many dogs win prizes. Yesterday, one of my older dogs was stolen. He was a champion in his  day and is now used only for breeding.”

“Ah! Now I remember where I had heard your name,” Watson interjected. “The business was in this morning’s paper. A curious choice for stealing, surely.”

“Yes,” Stein continued. “However, I have not yet told you the most troubling aspect of this incident. We found a not in the kennels, warning me not to enter any animal in upcoming competitions, or more dogs would be taken.”

Stein handed the note to Holmes, who examined it closely. “What can you tell me about dog showing  circles? Have you any particular rivals?”

“There is one other breeder whom I regularly come up against. A chap by the name of Essex. He breeds good dogs, but mine have always had the edge. He’s been wanting to beat me for years.”

“Well, then, the case is an obvious one,” Holmes declared. “This man, Essex, has stolen the dog to dissuade you from competing with him. He has selected this dog, rather than one of your current competitive stock, because it was an easier target.”

“What do you suggest I do, Mr Holmes?” Stein asked.

Holmes considered for a moment. “I would suggest that you consult the police. Relate to them what my view is. Even  _ they _ should be able to manage.”

Stein got to his feet. “Thank you, Mr Holmes.” He shook Holmes’ hand before Watson escorted him to the door.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The rest of the day was uneventful. Watson used the time to review his notes of some of their recent cases and begin writing them up. He retired to bed early after supper to indulge in some reading. Just as he was beginning to feel ready for sleep, he found that he was rather thirsty. He got out of bed and headed downstairs for some water. On the way down, he noticed a light still on in the sitting room. After having his drink, he stopped outside the sitting room door on the way back up. Holmes was sitting at the table, evidently poring over some document. He was reading aloud to himself, though in a most uncharacteristically faltering voice.

“The auth-author-authorities have i-n-s-t-i-t-u-t-e-d-instituted a strict investigation into the  cir -cum- st -a-n- ces circumstances.”

Watson pushed open the door. “Holmes? Are you alright?”

Holmes started violently. “Watson!” he exclaimed. “I was just,  er … reviewing the evening paper.”

Watson suspected that this was not the whole truth, but he did not wish to push Holmes. He started to apologise for the intrusion, when Holmes cut him off.

“Please, Watson. I endured enough taunting at school. I do not need you laughing at me too.”

Watson’s heart broke a little at his tone. “I would hope you know me well enough to know that I would never laugh at you.”

Holmes sighed heavily. “I know, my dear fellow. But this weakness,” he snarled the word, “would surely demean me in your eyes.”

“Never,” Watson asserted.

Holmes’ lips twitched in a slight smile. “You truly are the best of men. If word got about that Sherlock Holmes cannot read, I would be universally derided. But I can! I  _ can _ read. Just not with any great speed or complexity.”

There was silence between them for a few moments. Watson sat down at the table opposite Holmes and the detective continued. “No doubt you are far too much of a gentleman to ask what you really wish to know. My grasp of reading a school was so slow that, in the end, my teachers gave up.”

“But that’s appalling,” Watson cut in.

“That’s public school,” Holmes commented wryly. “As you can see, I practice, but it is a tortuous business. I can make very little progress.”

Watson thought for a moment. “I could help you.”

“I do not desire your pity.”

Watson could see how much it had taken for Holmes to reveal this secret to him. “I do not offer out of pity. You are my friend and I want to help you.”

Tears sprang to Holmes’ eyes. “Thank you.”

“For now, though, I think we should both get to bed.”

Holmes roused himself. “Yes, you are right. Goodnight, Watson.”

“Goodnight,” Watson replied. He sat at the table for some time after Holmes had gone, thinking. Certainly, this did not in any way demean Holmes in his eyes. On the contrary, he found that he admired his friend all the more.


	2. Chapter 2

The next evening, the lessons began. Watson had scoured the paper for a suitable article to use. 

He laid the paper on the table before Holmes, indicating the article. “I think we will start with this,” he said. “Take your time.” 

Holmes nodded solemnly. Tentatively, shyly, he began to read. “The retreat of the b-r-i-g-ands brigands who cap-t-u-r-ed captured Mr Suter is cut off on the land side by the T-u-r-k-ish Turkish troops, and by sea by gun-b-oats gunboats. A day or two ago a Turkish gun v-e-ss-el vessel ch-a-s-ed chased a -. What is that word, Watson?” 

Watson looked where Holmes was indicating. “Barque. It’s a type of sailing ship. You’re doing really well.” 

Holmes smiled slightly. He still felt vulnerable, but Watson’s encouragement helped immeasurably. He took a breath and continued. “A barque which was b-e-l-ie-v-ed believed to be manned by the brigands, and, having s-ev-er-al several times v-ai-n-ly vainly s-u-mm-on-ed summoned her to stop, sank her. It is feared that Mr Suter may have been on board.” 

“Excellent, Holmes,” Watson said. “That was impressive.” 

“You exaggerate, Watson,” Holmes said with a slight smile. He felt a small bubble of pride at his friend’s words. “What next?” 

“Why don’t we try the telegrams from today?” Watson suggested. 

“An excellent idea,” Holmes assented. He reached for the pile of telegrams still lying on the table and selected one. “I would a-pp-re-c-i-ate appreciate your advice on a most d-e-l-i-c-a-t-e delicate matter. I fear that I am close to ruin, as I have had my savings stolen. D-i-s-c-r-e-tion discretion is r-e-qu-i-red required as the truth would greatly d-is-t-re-ss distress my wife.” 

“Another one?” Watson asked. 

“Perhaps just one more,” Holmes replied. The concentration required was beginning to tire him already. “You choose.” 

Watson flipped through the telegrams and selected one. “This may be a bit more challenging.” 

With a little trepidation, Holmes began again. “About four years ago, I est-a-b-l-i-sh-ed established a pawn b-r-o-k-ing broking business. I have several c-us-to-m-ers customers who come to me r-eg-u-l-ar-ly regularly. Last month, I became sus-p- sus-p-i-” 

“Suspicious.” 

“Thank you. Suspicious of one of my regulars. He began selling me large qu-a-n-t-i-ties quantities of high values items, which I s-u-s-p-e-c-t suspect to be stolen.” 

“Very well done, Holmes,” Watson said. “A fine place to end, I think.” 

“Yes,” Holmes agreed, leaving the table. “I think I shall soothe myself with a little violin.” 

Holmes was less pleased than Watson with how the session had gone. Although it had been more productive than he could achieve by himself, he still felt uneasy. He was baring a very private part of himself. It was, he reflected, a measure of his regard for Watson that he was able to feel even moderately comfortable.


	3. Chapter 3

Their lessons continued in much the same vein. Watson was impressed with the progress that Holmes made and how hard he worked. However, Holmes was very severe on himself if he felt that he made too many mistakes. When this happened, Watson wanted nothing more than to hold Holmes in his arms, to kiss his tired eyes and hands, to reassure him that any effort and any progress was enough. His feelings for his friend had been growing for some time, but he accepted that they would never be returned. He would far rather keep Holmes in his life as a friend than lose him entirely because of his foolish feelings. 

One morning, some 6 months after they had begun their reading sessions, Holmes bounded up the stairs and into Watson’s bedroom, brandishing a telegram. “Listen to this, Watson,” he cried. “Dear Mr Holmes, I must request your services on behalf of all my family. In brief, an old associate of my father has laid claim on me for his son. This is not something that any of us want, therefore he has been refused. Since, we have received a number of threats. We fear that some great danger will soon be upon us, but we do not know what it may be. I will call upon you at 10 o’clock this morning to lay the facts before you. Sincerely, Katherine Reyes.” 

“Wonderful, Holmes!” Watson exclaimed. 

Holmes flushed with pride and smiled. “Thank you.” With an effort, he composed himself. “Now, Watson, we must prepare ourselves for our visitor.” 

At 10 o’clock, Miss Reyes arrived and was ushered in by Mrs Hudson. She was a pretty girl of 18. Both her attire and the short style of her dark red hair indicated practicality. 

“Thank you for seeing me, Mr Holmes,” she said, extending her hand to him. 

He took it, saying, “Of course, Miss Reyes. Allow me to introduce my friend and colleague, Dr Watson. You are a seamstress, I perceive.” 

“I always read your column, Dr Watson,” she said, shaking his hand too. “I am indeed a seamstress, Mr Holmes. I work for a dressmaker’s in our village of Goring.” 

“Do please sit down,” Holmes said, gesturing to the settee. “Tell us exactly what has befallen you.” 

She sat down. “I should first explain that we may have some difficulty in paying your fee in full.” 

“It does not matter,” Holmes said with a wave of his hand. “My work is its own reward.” 

Visibly relieved, she began her story. “My father works as a gamekeeper on the local estate. He had a particular friend who also worked there, by the name of John Brown. He has a son a few years older than me, Stephen. It has been intended for many years that we would marry once I reached the age of 18. However, last year there was a falling out between them when John was dismissed for allowing poachers to operate on the estate. Naturally, Stephen sided with his father and my family viewed our arrangement as broken off.” She paused here. 

“I take it that the Browns do not share this view,” Watson prompted. 

“They do not,” she confirmed. “John has made it clear that he expects the marriage to go ahead. Over the past 2 months, we received threats from him against our property and ourselves if I do not marry Stephen. I have some of his letters with me.” She removed a small bundle of papers from her bag and handed them to Holmes. 

He flicked through the letters, scanning them for words indicating the intention. “This, I take it, is the latest one you have received?” he asked when he reached the bottom of the pile. 

Miss Reyes nodded, and Holmes passed the letter to Watson. 

“Miss Reyes, you have seen fit to ignore my previous warnings. Your birthday has now passed. The marriage must take place this coming Saturday. If not, I shall be forced to take concrete action. John Brown.” Watson shook his head. “Brute.” 

Holmes tapped a finger to his lips, lost in thought for a moment. “I can quite see why you are afraid, Miss Reyes,” he said. “The threats you have received are certainly serious. However, it seems to me that Mr Brown in an indecisive fellow.” He paused before addressing Watson. “Would you have any objection to travelling to Goring today, Watson?” 

“Not at all,” Watson replied. “I would be happy to accompany you, dear fellow.” 

“Excellent.” Holmes clapped his hands together. “We shall travel after lunch and commence our enquiries.” 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

They arrived in Goring late in the afternoon and Holmes lost no time in commencing his investigations. He spent several hours in questioning various people around the village to gain some insight into John Brown’s character. That evening, he explained his findings and plans to the family. 

“From my conversations, I gather that Mr Brown is a very impulsive man. Can you confirm this?” 

“He certainly is,” Mr Reyes replied. “That was his downfall, I think.” 

Holmes nodded. “Then we must use that to our advantage. My suggestion is that you, Miss Reyes, send a message to him tomorrow. You should say that you do not want to marry his son, but that you wish to speak to him to smooth things over. I expect that this will spur him into acting, so that the police may be brought in to catch him in the act.” 

“Holmes, I must object,” Watson interjected. “That would be far too dangerous for Miss Reyes.” 

“Actually, I agree with Mr Holmes,” she said. “I just want this to be over.” 

They talked over the plan and, later, Holmes and Watson retired to the local inn where they had taken a room. Unfortunately, the only vacant room had a double bed. Holmes had volunteered to take the sofa, as he doubted that he would sleep much, but Watson would not hear of it. They awkwardly got into the bed together and faced away from each other. 

“Goodnight Holmes,” Watson mumbled as he doused the lamp. 

“Goodnight, Watson,” Holmes replied. 

As he had expected, Holmes slept little. Once he heard Watson’s breathing settle and was confident he was asleep, he turned over to face his friend’s back. It would take so little for him to reach out and touch Watson, but he dared not, He knew that once he breached the barrier, he would not be able to stop his caresses, would want to map all the muscles and scars that made up his Watson. Then Watson would wake up and Holmes would have to lay bare all the feelings he had been concealing for so long. He could not lose Watson because of his foolish feelings. 

He must have fallen asleep eventually, because he woke later to the beginnings of golden light seeping into the room. He had clearly also turned back over in his sleep because Watson was sleeping at his back with an arm slung over his waist. Tentatively, he brought up a hand and laced his fingers with Watson’s. Whilst he was revelling in that feeling, Watson pressed a kiss to the back of his neck. 

“Holmes,” Watson mumbled, clearly still asleep as he nuzzled the spot he had just kissed. “My love.” 

Holmes let out a shivery sigh. This complicated matters.


	4. Chapter 4

In the morning, Watson woke to an empty bed. He missed Holmes’ warmth and felt strangely lonely. He had dreamed that Holmes had taken his hand in the night and that he had responded by kissing and nuzzling Holmes’ neck. This was nothing unusual, so he did his best to ignore his feelings. Raising his head and looking towards the sofa, he saw that Holmes was watching him.

“Good morning, Holmes,” he said. “How did you sleep?”

Holmes shrugged. “It is of no consequence.” His lips twitched in a slight smile. “You evidently slept well.”

“Quite well, thank you,” Watson replied, stretching a little. “What time are we needed at the Reyes’?”

“Half past nine,” Holmes responded. “No need to rush.”

It seemed to Watson that Holmes was out of sorts. The detective seemed nervous somehow. Watson assumed it was something to do with the case weighing on Holmes’ mind, so decided it would be best not to pry. He dragged himself out of bed and changed, trying not to dwell on how he would like to comfort his friend.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

When they reached the Reyes’ house, the letter to John Brown had already been prepared. On Holmes’ suggestion, Miss Reyes had asked to meet with Mr Brown later in the morning. The letter was dispatched and all that was left was to wait.

Watson was sent to summon the police. He returned promptly, bringing with him an inspector by the name of Andrews.

It was around 11 o’clock when they heard the click of the garden gate. Holmes touched Watson’s wrist to get his attention and indicated that they and Andrews should conceal themselves. Once this was accomplished, Mr Reyes went to admit their visitor.

John Brown strode into the sitting room, his face like thunder. His voice was icy. “We had an agreement.”

“An agreement which ended with our friendship,” Mr Reyes responded.

“Please, father,” Miss Reyes said, laying a placating hand on his arm. She then addressed Mr Brown. “I will  _ not _ marry your son, not now. I am prepared to stay on friendly terms with  him, however. Things might change in time.”

John Brown shook his head. “No. You  _ will _ marry him, or I will destroy you.”

“I cannot.”

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a bundle and a box of matches. “Then I shall burn down your house,” he said with unnerving calmness.

Andrews sprang into action immediately. Brown was arrested and taken away, along with the bundle of threatening letters to bolster the case. The family were immensely grateful and sent Holmes and Watson back to London with many well-wishes.

Holmes became withdrawn during the journey on the train. Watson made several attempts to draw him into conversation, but they all fell flat. Watson could sense a black mood descending on his friend and dreaded the almost certain recourse to the seven percent solution.

As it turned out, Holmes did not seek solace in his syringe. The very next morning, he took himself off early, Watson knew not where, and did not return until the evening. This was not a particularly remarkable occurrence. Holmes was often absent for days at a time when working on a case.

On this occasion, Holmes went to the Diogenes club. He valued Mycroft’s advice and the problem with which has grappling was especially important.

“I need your help with a … personal problem,” he began.

“But of course, Sherlock,” Mycroft replied. “What is your problem?”

Holmes swallowed nervously, considering his wording carefully. “I have become increasingly aware of … certain feelings I have developed for Watson. If I do not confess these feelings to him, I will be miserable. If I  _ do _ , he may be disgusted by me and leave. Or worse.”

“Why now?”

Holmes explained what had transpired in Goring the previous day.

Mycroft smiled. “It is, I think, rather obvious what you must do, Sherlock. Even without your experience yesterday I should have told you the same thing. Tell him.”

“What makes you so sure, brother mine?”

“It is obvious to me, though clearly not to you, that the doctor has been deeply in love with you for quite some time. Do the both of you a favour and tell him.”

Holmes took his leave and headed off in the direction of a park. “If only it were so easy,” he muttered to himself. He needed space to think.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The following morning, Holmes was smoking his pipe while Watson read the newspaper, when Mrs Hudson entered the sitting room.

“A telegram for you, Mr Holmes,” she said.

“Thank you, Mrs Hudson.” He read the telegram silently before holding it out to Watson. “If you have a minute, Watson, would you indulge me by reading this?”

Watson looked up from the paper. “You are perfectly capable of reading it yourself, Holmes,” he replied. Why do you need me to read it to you?”

Laying his pipe aside, Holmes braced himself to leap. “I find that I enjoy having you read things to me. I adore your voice, John, as I adore  _ you _ .”

“Oh,” was all Watson could manage in response as his mind scrambled to process what Holmes had said.

After a few moments of silence, Holmes cast his gaze down. “I apologise, Watson. That was foolish of me. I understand if you no longer wish to stay.” He was about to leave the room when Watson stopped him.

“Stop. Holmes, I – I never hoped – how long have you felt like this?” he said falteringly.

“A long time,” Holmes responded.

“I feel the same way.” Watson crossed to where Holmes now stood and took his hand.

Holmes raised his free hand, his fingers brushed against Watson’s neck as he cupped the doctor’s cheek. “John,” he sighed, before dipping his head to kiss his Watson. He started tentatively, but the kiss became more passionate when he felt Watson respond.

Both were flushed and breathing heavily when they pulled away. Watson’s hand had come to rest on Holmes’ waist and rubbed circles there whilst their foreheads rested together.

“I love you, Sherlock,” Watson murmured before drawing Holmes into another kiss.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me to the end. I couldn't resist adding this epilogue.

One rainy Monday morning, Watson sat gazing out of the window of his consulting room between patients. He was tired, having dragged himself from his and Holmes’ bed early to catch up on paperwork. He sighed ruefully, remembering how peaceful his lover had been when he left.

A knock at the door broke him from his reverie.

“Come in,” he called.

A rather soggy-looking errand boy entered and held out a piece of paper to him. “Note for you, Dr Watson sir.”

“Thank you,” Watson replied, taking the note.

He recognised Holmes’ handwriting on the front. He opened the paper to find a message written in the code they had agreed to avoid detection. Translated, it read

_ My beloved John, _

_ As I did not get to tell you before you left, I adore you. _

_ Sherlock. _

Watson shook his head fondly and penned a reply.

_ My darling Sherlock, _

_ You are impossible, but I love you. _

_ John. _


End file.
